


Back Ache

by aohatsu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:48:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aohatsu/pseuds/aohatsu
Summary: Tony hits the ground hard.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Kudos: 52





	Back Ache

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr.

Tony hits the ground hard. He can feel the painful shock of it thundering up his back; can’t help the agonized gasp of pain that bubbles from his throat as he shuts his eyes and grits his teeth, willing himself to take the two second reprieve from battle to just – breathe, and get through the pain. He has to get back up.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He has to get _back up_.  
  
His limbs don’t want to move. The armor, for all that it’s made out of nano-particles and is about as heavy as a paper schematic these days, feels stiff, unmoving, like a boulder sitting atop him that just. won’t. budge.  
  
At least, not without intense spasming pain striking out from the lumbar region of his back, a screaming protest as he tries to twist his body, to get up and get back to the fight.   
  
He’s getting too old for this kind of thing anymore. Ten years ago, robots and aliens attacking the city wouldn’t have been a big deal. He could take care of it in his sleep. These days, his back starts aching if he so much as rolls onto his stomach in bed. The days of falling asleep at his desk in the workshop are more or less behind him.  
  
F.R.I.D.A.Y. announces a collision ten feet to his left as an angry robot comes screeching into a tree, smoking and sparking metal intermixed with the white spider fluid signaling Peter’s – Spider-Man’s – presence in the battle.  
  
Spider-Man drops in next to him in a crouch, the black eyes of his suit wider than usual. A red-gloved hand touches Tony’s shoulder – or the armor, anyway. “Mr. Stark, are you okay?” he asks, voice too high, almost panicked rather than just worried.   
  
Tony groans and tries to sit up. He gasps again, lying back down instantly.  
  
“Nope, not okay,” Tony bites out. “Not doing so hot, Spider-Man. Give me a minute to catch my breath, would you?” At F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s notification, he adds, “Hey, incoming, eight seconds.”  
  
Peter jumps up – higher than any normal man could, youthful and athletic or not, grabs the incoming robot by one of it’s twisting arms, and heaves the thing around in a arching swing that has it smashing into the ground in a smattering of metal. For all that Tony has seen Peter’s strength before, seen robots be destroyed before, his heart thumps quickly and erratically at the sight of Peter putting one of the bots down so efficiently.  
  
Peter’s turned back to him already, his hands out like he wants to touch the armor but isn’t sure where or how. Tony forces himself up, bracing himself against the pain that, really, hasn’t lessened at all in the few minutes he’s been lying around doing nothing. Peter helps to ease him up, all that spider strength keeping the suit up even when Tony gasps and nearly slides back down as his muscles protest the movement.  
  
“Fuck,” he breathes, “this is gonna hurt for a while, kid. Just leave me. Take care of the bots on 4th. Then come back. I’ll be good by then.” Probably. If nothing else, he can turn comms off and let F.R.I.D.A.Y. take over the suit to get him back to the compound while he passes out.  
  
“Um, no,” Peter says, sounding almost taken aback. “You’re hurt! Mr. Stark, if a bot comes at you, you’ll be in trouble.”  
  
Tony grimaces inside the suit. Normally, he’d open the face mask so that Peter got the full disapproval of being talked back to mid-mission (which still only works half the time if the end goal is to make Peter listen to him), but frankly, at the moment, he thinks it’d be worse to let Peter see his face.  
  
“Kid, I’ll be fine. I don’t need a babysitter. Go.”  
  
Peter stubbornly sits down, folding his legs underneath him like a kid at the library during story-time. “Besides,” he says, “War Machine is on 4th. He’d get mad if I jumped in to help.”  
  
Well, no, he’d just make a joke about Peter hogging all the action, but Rhodey wouldn’t actually mind. Still, F.R.I.D.A.Y. concurs that there’s no need for Spider-Man’s attention, and nearly all the bots have been destroyed.   
  
“Fine, send the clean up crew in as soon as the last bot is down,” Tony says wearily, and F.R.I.D.A.Y. takes the order. Peter is grinning, Tony can tell even through the damned mask. Or maybe he’s just imagining the smug sense of, “I won!” coming off the kid in waves, because a second later, Peter is asking, “Do you think you can stand up, or should I carry you? Where did you get hit?”  
  
That’s just – no.  
  
“I’ll fly, thanks,” Tony grunts, and then grinds his teeth together as he forces himself up to standing. He doesn’t realize through the shock of pain that he’s leaning almost entirely against Peter, who’s hopped up to grab him tightly at the back and waist of the armor.  
  
Tony would like to stand under his own power, but genuinely thinks he might fall if he tries to stop leaning on the kid right then. He closes his eyes instead, mentally cursing.  
  
Almost pondering, Peter says, “I could totally carry you, you know. I wouldn’t swing; that’d probably hurt you. But, yeah, I could carry you. We could send for a car, have it meet us, uh-–”  
  
The road’ll need to be cleared of broken bot and building debris before a car is getting through. Peter adjusts, “–-on 4th? We can catch up to War Machine.”  
  
Tony almost snorts. Even if he were willing to give in and let Peter carry him like an invalid, he would never let Rhodey see. He’d never hear the end of it.  
  
Instead, he compromises and admits, “I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. do the flying. Just… let me lean on your shoulder for a minute, kid. Need to brace for the shift.”  
  
“Alright,” Peter says, soft and maybe still a bit unhappy. He puts a shoulder underneath Tony’s arm, and Tony grits his teeth but takes a step. Painful, but not complete agony. He might actually make it back without passing out at this rate.  
  
“I’ll meet you at the compound. I’ll get a lift from War Machine.”  
  
“Sounds good, kid,” though, really, it’d sound better if the both of them took their sweet time so that Tony can get through the worst of it before they get back. Maybe a nice scotch’ll help.  
  
With that, F.R.I.D.A.Y. takes control and Tony bites his lip through the pain as the suit leaves the ground and shoots into the sky, heading for home.


End file.
